


thunderclaps are a strange lullaby

by kusege



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bullying, Canon quotedropping, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Funeral Mention, Gen, Headcanons Everywhere, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Murder, Rain, Tags will be updated, i’m not 100 percent on the FNAF timeline but this is my take, the murder isn’t graphic but it’s not vague either so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-03 10:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19462150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kusege/pseuds/kusege
Summary: Alternative title- 5 times Charlie cried and one time she laughed. Title, chapter titles, and summary from Isn’t The Rain by hiimcase. Updates weekly unless something goes wrong.I’ve found my place in vacancyLeaving things behindSo they can find meThunderclaps are a strange lullabyBut isn’t the rain just a reminder of how great it is to be inside?





	1. in a crowd i’m no one

The rain is cold and falling fast. It soaks through her shirt and pants like they’re nothing more than paper, plastering the denim and cotton to her skin. The water is collecting in her shoes, and her hands are shaking as she bangs on the window in the hopes of someone sympathetic seeing her.

Charlie sees an adult, and frantically bangs harder- but the other children run towards them. They’re distracted and don’t see or hear her. They leave with the children in tow without a second thought.

Dejected, she sits down on the drenched ground, concrete forming a massive puddle for her to sit in. This only makes her more uncomfortable, shivering and wet and hugging her legs in an attempt at some kind of comfort. Her own body heat feels distant and inconsequential against the unending torrent, pouring from the skies like God’s judgement. The rain slaps the concrete like so many vengeful hands, creating a calming ambiance of terror and pain for her to listen to.

Her hair is sticking to her face, blown around by winds formed by the walls of the alleyway and stuck to her face by water. She must look ghostlike, terrifying, like a shade of the past. She wishes she was terrifying. Maybe, if she was, the other children would be less mean to her- because if they weren’t, she could eat them.

Charlie giggles to herself at that, and then shivered again, teeth starting to chatter in an attempt to warm herself further. She supposes it kind of worked for Michael- after he threw that plastic fork across the room and screamed, people weren’t so fast to mess with him anymore. And Elizabeth- even though she was a whole year younger, she’d bitten someone when they were teasing Charlie about her dumb pants  _ but she likes her pants, skirts are weird anyways, _ but Elizabeth decided that was rude and so she bit their hand hard enough to draw blood.

She wishes Elizabeth was here now- someone warm and safe and willing to bite the people who were mean to her. Maybe if her teeth were big and sharp, and she was bigger, and her eyes glowed, and she was more mean- maybe then people would leave her alone.

The direction of the wind shifts and the rain begins to fall right into Charlie’s eyes. She sighs and stands up. No point in just sitting here, she may as well try and go back inside- maybe if her dad sees her, he’ll yell at the kids and get them in trouble. It’s a long shot since he’s so nice and would probably just try to dry her off and make her warm and make her feel better, but… well, she can dream. And being warm and happy sounds good too.

Her shoes make squelching sounds as she walks through the grimey alleyway. There are posters on the cracked brick walls, not only sun-bleached but now wholly illegible, as the rain causes the cheap ink to bleed down onto the bricks. Trash litters the area, both in bags that look slimy and suspiciously human-shaped, and loose bits of litter. Empty soda cups and cigarette butts and shattered beer bottles, now soaking in rainwater and mud.

Charlie hugs herself as she stumbles down the alleyway. There is a sudden light- a car’s headlights- there is a road out there. She could probably get back inside from there, and find her father, and be okay again. He would fix everything, dry off the rain and tuck her into bed and promise her that things would get better when she grew up in a way that always managed to make her believe him.

She tucks her head down to try and avoid the rain rolling down her face to fall in her eyes, but looks up at the sound of footsteps. The car had been parked right in front of the exit to the alleyway, and walking towards her is-

… is Mr. Afton.

Charlie’s spine is suddenly filled with a chill wholly unrelated to the rain’s cold.

She knows, of course, that he is safe. There is nothing to worry about. He is her father’s friend, her best friend’s father, he would never do anything wrong or bad…

“M-mister Afton?” she asks, chattering teeth mangling the words. He stares back at her, wordless. His eyes gleam back at her through the torrenting rain, making her gulp.

He steps towards her, and she has to fight the urge to step away. “M-mister Afton, I- I just need to get inside, I got locked out here-“  _ why is she stuttering, why is she so weak, you don’t show weakness ever _ -

“You’re locked out here?” he asks, accent perfect and level and emotionless. “Alone?”

“I-I…” Charlie panics, before reminding herself that there is really nothing to worry about. He is safe. Her dad wouldn’t lie to her. “Yeah, th-the other kids… they’re- they really don’t like me, I think.” 

There is a pause.

And then he takes another step towards her. “Your father doesn’t know you’re out here?”

_ There’s nothing to worry about there’s nothing to worry about there’s nothing to worry about-  _ “N-No, I.. I was going to go find him..-“

Mister Afton laughs. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he says. “You don’t need your father for that. I can handle this.”

Charlie’s heart does not exactly leap, but it does perk up. “Y-You can-n?” She is so cold now, her whole body is shaking and her nose is runny.

“Yes, I can,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out- something- it’s metallic but the rain in her eyes and the darkness of the alley prevents her from seeing anything more specific. The logical part of her brain suggests an umbrella. The darker part that insists he is dangerous says that it is a gun.

They are both wrong, she finds out, as he takes enough steps to be within arm’s reach.

He’s holding a knife.

Immediately, Charlie bursts into tears. “I-I’m sorry- I don’t- I-“

“Shhhhh, shh, shhhhh…” he says, kneeling down to be at eye level. “I know, it’s scary. But it’s alright, okay?”

She looks up at him, terrified. 

“I don’t hate you, child.” The false fatherly smile leaves his face. “But you need to stay out of my way.” 

She turns and sprints away, but doesn’t make it far, slipping on the soaking wet concrete and landing in a puddle of ash and dirt and other gross things, between trash bags and empty boxes. Charlie makes it to her feet just in time for him to reach her. She backs away from him, putting one foot behind the other behind the-

She hits a wall.

Mister Afton’s expression is predatory as he looks down at the shivering girl, backed into a corner.

“M-Mister Afton, please- don’t, please don’t, I don’t- I don’t know what I did, I just, I-“ she begs, looking for one more chance to escape, to run inside- her father will fix everything, she knows, she hopes-

“You didn’t do anything,” he says, like she’s talking about nothing, apologizing for an inconsequential mistake- although she knows that that isn’t how he talks about that, at least not all the time. “This is just for  _ me _ .” 

His blank expression morphs into a grin, and one hand presses her against the wall, and she screams as the other drives the knife into the side of her neck.

She gasps and chokes as her airway fills with blood, tears flowing down her cheeks and mixing with the rain, and the knife shreds her vocal cords so that she can no longer scream, and he stabs her again and again and again, until her neck is a mess of wounds that used to be cohesive flesh.

She only has time for a few thoughts while she bleeds out, barely hearing him walk away over the rain.

_ I want my dad _ repeats over and over and over, the last plea of a dying girl.

_ I hope Elizabeth misses me. _

_ I want my dad. _

_ I hope Michael will be okay now that I’m not there to hug him anymore. _

_ Maybe someone will come save me. _

_ Maybe my dad will come save me. _

_ I want my dad. _

Her father does not come to save her. But what does is a sparking, shuddering animatronic, trying to fulfill its only goal- to keep her safe.

And it does.


	2. it’s much too quiet now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, shit, I totally forgot yesterday was Wednesday until right now. Sorry for the late upload!

The rain has gotten inside the building, through holes in the ceiling and cracks in the walls and just due to pure saturation. The walls are slimy with condensation and a slowly increasing quantity of molds. It collects in puddles on the cracked tile, sinking into the concrete underneath and watering the few weeds brave enough to attempt to grow here.

Charlie lies in the center of the floor and stares up through one of the larger holes, rain constantly falling through her face and to the tile below it. Being a ghost has some advantages, she supposes- she doesn’t have to blink when rain lands where her eyes would be. Her hands absently tap out a familiar tune on the floor, tap tap slap, tap tap tap tap tap, beat, tap, beat, tap, tap...

She doesn’t know how long she lies there, only that when she sits up she is still alone.

She is not accustomed to being alone.

She had been- being the only ghost around will lead you to a life of loneliness. For years, she only had her own company, but at least there were other people around. She could listen in on conversations she was never meant to hear, learn words she would never have been allowed to use. She could keep an eye on her father, even as he came in less and less and seemed to be more exhausted every single time. She could watch the other children play, or fight, or scream, or, as it so happened, die.

She had not seen Elizabeth’s death, thankfully, or else it would haunt her just as much as she haunts this building. She only overheard it, from her dad talking about the funeral, and how it had rained at hers just like at Charlie’s, and wasn’t that nice that the universe missed both of their daughters. 

She did see what happened to Matthew. She watched him, helpless and weakly struggling against his brother. She served as witness as he was forced into savage jaws and had his skull crushed and stopped struggling and stopped breathing. He’d woken up not long after, only a few weeks, spirit finding itself attached to the very machine that had ended his life. Charlie had heard him burst into tears and rushed in to protect him. They’d hugged a lot, that first day, and for many after that. Charlie was so happy to not be alone.

Then, later, more children. She heard them, being led away, saw them die one by one, and hugged every single one before they were woken up in a new, special kind of hell. Even though they were all around her age, they looked up to her, probably because she was technically much older than them.

They’d watched together, after that. Listening in on conversations, Charlie learned of increasing suspicions towards the company. There was a growing fear of the animatronics, rumors of a murderer, of a curse, of something. No one was looking in the right places, however, and she took it upon herself to try to change that.

Unfortunately, all she got for her troubles was discussion of glitches and facial recognition and restraining movement privileges and a stupid music box that she grew to both love and hate. It ran often, nearly constant throughout the days and nights. She hated what it did to her AI, making it complacent and impossible for her to control, but she did like the music. It kept her calm and sane when she felt like she was about to explode, the slow and calming tones allowing a sweet escapism. It always had, when things got bad. She could rock back and forth and hum along and relax, resting her soul. Besides, it was something for her to listen to if she needed a break from the others. 

Not that she didn’t like them. She loved them. They jokingly called her their mother, sometimes. She’d hug them when they woke from sleep that was besieged by nightmares of things they’d never had to worry about before. They would talk with her, and Charlie felt for the first time that she had real friends. They grew close, happy. They were almost like a family.

And now she is alone. 

She isn’t sure if they’re truly gone- she hopes they’ve ascended, freed themselves, but it wouldn’t surprise her if their spirits have just faded enough that she can’t see them anymore. It would be just their goddamn luck. She hopes that if that’s the case, they can at least talk to each other, because it would make sense and any other situation would be too cruel for even the most heartless god to allow. But she does know that they’re not around her anymore. Not since…. 

She looks around the room, at the broken down door, previously boarded up from the inside. The shattered boards on the ground are so old, too old-  _ has it been that long since they lived?-  _ but not old enough. The boards are warped and worn, rusty nails poking out, matching up to holes in the wall that have since begun to crack and break. The rain continues to fall, dampening the world around her even more. 

She stares at the door for a minute too long before forcing herself to look away. She lets her eyes fall on the cardboard boxes, the posters lying in puddles and eaten by rats and then, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, looks to the puddle that is stained a muddy red and then looks up from it at the other... person in the room.

The animatronic stares back at nothing, eyes fruitlessly trying to glow, occasionally glitching its head or hands or legs, body parts seizing in an attempt to move. Him, too, she cannot see or hear, and she isn’t sure why. Maybe because their souls are in different states. She has learned to separate herself from her vessel, allowing her to move around without moving it- especially useful, now that it has been shoved into a cardboard box. She doubts he has, if the useless spasms have anything to say about it.

Somehow, she thought he’d get bored of trying by now, but he seems determined. Charlie wonders what he’s trying to do. Maybe leave? But where would he go? There is no place for him now, when he looks like this. Maybe, she thinks, scowling, he just wants to kill again. She wouldn’t be surprised if his bloodlust reigned supreme even in death.

A sizable raindrop lands on an exposed bit of wiring, and a terrifying sound- like so much static and screaming- fills the otherwise quiet room. A collection of sparks act as lightning, casting the face of the animatronic into something even more horrific than a bloodstained bunny head.

The animatronic goes still for a moment, and then the glitching picks up again, harder this time. Without even thinking, Charlie groans. “Would you just stop?” 

It freezes. There is silence, except for the rush of rain. Individual droplets making soft  _ plink _ sounds as they land in puddles. Rushing  _ shhhhh  _ noises as the rain plasters walls. Drumlike  _ thunkthunkthunk _ s against sodden boxes. 

And then the head very slowly raises itself, seemingly of its own accord. “B-bRA-at?” the animatronic stutters, voicebox glitchy with moisture and age and disuse. Charlie falls silent out of fear, hugs her knees. Then, a rusted laugh, menacing. “A-aw, darl-liNG, dOn’t be SCA-sca-scared.”

She still says nothing, hands trembling a bit as she struggles to stop herself from breathing. It isn’t something she needs to do, only doing it due to instinct. But she can’t let him know she’s still here. If he can hear her…

Tears stream down her face from fear. She can’t stop them, she can only try to keep her sobs silent and hope he thinks he imagined it. 

He continues to call out to her for a while, clearly not believing the room to be as empty as she suddenly wanted it to be. Eventually, he seems to get bored, and returns to his typical glitchy state. Charlie sighs, and lies down on the ground, propping herself up against a box. She hates being alone, but she thinks she might hate having only the devil for company even more.

She wishes it wasn’t raining. When it is, all she can think about is the day she died. Usually, one of the others can help keep her busy until the storm passes. But now that they’re gone, and she has a reminder of the events with her at all times… 

She lightly rubs the stab wound that made it onto her ghost, on the side of her neck. She is lonely and sad, and she watches the rain fall and listens to his glitching and feels the tears drip off her cheeks and wishes she were anywhere else.


End file.
